


i refuse to lose another friend to this, so come home

by Curator_of_Crows



Series: there is a light in your eyes and it never goes out [3]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Character Study, Danny Stoker (mentioned) - Freeform, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Mentions of Stalking, Minor paranoia, No beta we die like archival assistants, Rated T for my foul language, References to Depression, Sad and Happy, Sasha James (mentioned) - Freeform, canon typical emotional anguish i guess?, hoooo boy I'm laying into the angst here, i cried a little while writing this ngl, listen do not tell me that tim wouldnt be paranoid about jon too, maybe not happy but hopeful, referenced disordered eating habits, the au where they get to talk things out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:02:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27405487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curator_of_Crows/pseuds/Curator_of_Crows
Summary: Tim stopped in his tracks, irritated that his mind kept wandering to those things. It was awfully tempting to just turn around and leave, come up with an excuse no matter how terrible it was and crawl back into his flat. He could spend the rest of his life in between bouts of mind-numbing depression and furiously researching anything and everything he could get his hands on.“T-Tim?”-Tim and Jon talk.
Relationships: Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: there is a light in your eyes and it never goes out [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1944421
Kudos: 47





	i refuse to lose another friend to this, so come home

**Author's Note:**

> title is loosely based on the song 'leave a light on' by tom walker because i cried while writing this and I'm at least seventy percent sure it's because of that song  
> so this is a behind the scenes for chapter twelve (I promise it's coming, my life has been an utter shit show lately and that's not even including the political hellscape that is the US right now). I would recommend reading the Big Fic because a few details might be a little confusing, but technically you *could* read this for some angst with a happy ending  
> these two aren't ooc if it's an au, right? right...  
> I have big jontim feelings and I cannot lie also this is not edited in any capacity beyond a quick once-over before posting because if i get hung up on editing then it'll never be posted have fun ily byeeee

Tim hummed to himself as he walked, careful to not drop the plastic serving bowl he carried in his arms. Gado-gado wasn’t exactly what he’d planned on making, but he had some vegetables that desperately needed to be used -he could hear his grandmother’s words already, about why he should never, ever waste food. Takeout and caffeine ended up being his primary source of sustenance in recent days and he didn’t really like that, so any excuse to cook was one he’d gladly jump to. And, since his dad wasn’t able to help him translate the old woman’s recipe for soto, gado-gado was a good substitute. Tim knew he could probably look up a recipe online and improvise, but it didn’t feel the same- wouldn’t have the rightness to it that his grandmother could bring.

His footsteps slowed as he pondered the house party. It felt weird to be doing that, just… going out for fun. It wasn’t even that long ago when he would do it often. Maybe not regularly, but there were always special occasions, birthdays at pubs, brunches with friends, even just going to Sasha’s flat to complain about straight cis men and jokingly flirting and then _not_ _jokingly_ flirting and-

He took a deep breath. Nope. Not going down that road yet.

But he hadn’t done much after Prentiss- the gaming bar was probably the most fun he’d had since then. And then of course, to ruin it all again, someone was murdered in his workplace and Tim found himself withdrawing more and more. He would sit and stare out his window most nights; he’d watch the city, life, everyone move on without him just like it cruelly moved on without Danny-

Tim stopped in his tracks, irritated that his mind kept wandering to those things. It was awfully tempting to just turn around and leave, come up with an excuse no matter how terrible it was and crawl back into his flat. He could spend the rest of his life in between bouts of mind-numbing depression and furiously researching anything and everything he could get his hands on.

“T-Tim?”

He whipped his head to the side, at first panicking at the dark alleyway stretching before him. What called his name? The voice _sounded_ familiar, but so did Sasha’s. 

Before Tim could imagine the many horrible things that could’ve been waiting in the dark- the things that were slowly taking everything from him, he recognized the shape walking towards him slowly. It was Jon. And he looked like a deer caught in headlights.

Tim blinked a few times before he came back online and sighed, “Didn’t expect you to come.” He internally winced at the tone of his voice, wishing that he’d just drop his own anger and hug the frightened man before him but…

That would’ve been a lot easier if his trust hadn’t been violated.

Jon had a minute reaction to Tim’s tone but he spoke on, “I um, I wasn’t sure if I should- murder investigation notwithstanding.”

There was meaning there and Tim would dig to find it. The urge for everything to go back to normal- God, he’d do just about anything for it. Even the fucked up normal was something he could live with.

“Well,” Tim started cautiously, “I don’t think we’ll get anywhere with hesitation.”

Jon looked up at him with big, beautiful dark eyes and Tim swears he could fall in love with him just a little. Tim could fall in love with anyone and that wasn’t something he considered a fault. People were beautiful, in all sorts of ways that made his heart clench and compelled him to shower anyone and everyone with the affection of their choice if they consented to receiving it.

And before everything went to shit, Tim couldn’t pretend he wasn’t a little into Jon. It was painfully distracting for his own brooding, must-know-everything nature when he first started working at the Magnus Institute. The way Jon would analyze everything he picked up was something Tim admired, and sometimes if he was lucky, he’d catch Jon info-dumping on whatever it was they were working on back in Research. It was before he’d even met Sasha, though he didn’t come out of his shell to pester Jon intentionally until after she’d offered a hand for him to pull himself out.

“Would you like an escort, Mr. Sims?” Tim asked, somewhat joking but serious about the offer, nonetheless.

Jon seemed shocked by his offer, but he uncurled from himself just a touch. Had he been losing weight? There was a voice in the back of Tim’s head, saying, ‘ _Y_ _eah, and so have you’_.

Tim wasn’t exactly ready to forgive Jon.

But he was ready to at least _try_.

Jon took a breath, “If you don’t mind?”

“Wouldn’t offer if I did.”

The neighborhood Ollie and Cosme lived in was quiet in the evening, even along the main road their building was just off of. Tim didn’t press Jon into walking in direct openness- even _he_ wasn’t mad enough to put him in danger like that. So they took to small roads and remained quiet.

Just a year ago, Tim would’ve been ecstatic to have Jon walking by his side as the sun set behind them. He would offer Jon his jacket, because even then Jon was forgetful, or he wouldn’t realize how cold thirteen degrees could be in the right setting.

Jon _did_ have a coat, but he was kind of hunched inwards, hands shoved into his pockets and head downwards a bit as he walked.

Tim wasn’t absurdly tall, but it was still a shock to him that Jon was so _fast_ even though he had at least half a foot on the man. All jokes aside about being gay and caffeinated and whatnot, Tim couldn’t help the amused noise that came out, or the outright laugh when Jon scowled at him.

“We’re not being chased, Jon, you can enjoy the walk.”

The aforementioned man looked to the side, “It’s just habit, I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

Okay, _that_ wasn’t good. Jon could be prickly, yes, but there was something with the look Jon gave from the corner of his eye that set Tim on edge. He didn’t take a moment to question if it was suspicion or not.

Tim stopped in his tracks and Jon noticed almost immediately, stopping just a few paces ahead with a questioning look.

“Is it? Is it a habit, Jon?”

He frowned, “Y-Yes? I’m fairly certain I’ve always had this pace,” he replied defensively.

“You’re not doing it for the head start? You don’t think I’ll murder you?”

Jon stiffened, his hands tightening into fists, “I, I’m _sorry_ , I thought I made it clear that I don’t think you would do that- not anymore.”

Tim knew it wasn’t fair to bring it up after he extended the olive branch by offering to walk Jon to the party. He knew it wasn’t, but he also knew that he wouldn’t be able to be around Jon if that was the terms of their friendship. He _couldn’t._ He was doing a thorough job of screwing up what he was intending to say though, and he was fully aware that the way he said that could’ve been taken as threatening.

“Just,” he bit down on his lower lip, afraid of what could slip out if he didn’t carefully think his words through. Fuck it. “It hurts, Jon, it hurts that after everything-” he gestures to his own worm-scarred body, “You thought I’d do that.” He hated how broken his voice sounded. Yes, he was still angry and yes, he and Jon did talk about it before. They were even getting somewhere. 

But the _hurt_? That was something he was still grappling with. 

He hoped he wouldn’t cry. _Fuck_ , he didn’t want to cry in front of Jon, not like that. He’d really much rather it be in the safety of indoors where they could both just talk it out. Tim knew better than to expect anything rational out of his life.

Jon relaxed by a fraction, either from Tim’s sincere, quiet voice or from the realization of what Tim hoped the stubborn man finally understood. Jon crossed his arms like it was supposed to be a hug or a shield and Tim despised the split second of vindication he felt. 

“You’re right,” Jon said quietly, “I hurt you all, and that wasn’t fair of me.”

 _Say something about Sasha, say something, say that it was really her and we were all confused, please say that it_ **_wasn’t_ ** _her and I’ll finally understand why she pulled away, why she’s gone-_

“But to be fair, Tim, it wasn’t _your_ office in which a dead body was found.” The laugh Jon made wasn’t humorous at all- was it a laugh, or a poorly disguised sob? Was Jon as distressed as he was about it all?

Tim felt a flash of anger and to some degree, he felt that a tiny bit of it was justified. But Jon was right, too. Tim couldn't pretend that he wouldn't be suspicious of everyone if a corpse was not only found at his own desk, but that he was also being investigated. But, he was _scared_ of Jon for a bit there- not even of what he would do to Tim, just scared that something was pretending to be him, wearing his skin. It was his first gut-reaction, when he first saw Jon outside his window the night before the Leitner incident at work. The dread swallowed him whole at the possibility that Jon was taken from him too; when Tim was assured that Jon hadn't been replaced, he had no idea how to cope with it all.

But that was the difference, wasn't it? Where Jon isolated himself and put up walls, Tim desperately tried to reach out for someone even when in the back of his mind, he knew that something was off, changed. Somehow, the two felt disastrously similar to him.

He sagged a bit, catching Jon off guard with his reaction, and brought a hand down his face, “God, what a fucking mess this is.” What he wanted to say was, _Please, I miss you. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore._ He wasn’t sure if he missed Jon, Sasha, Danny, or the person he used to be, himself.

“It really is,” Jon muttered weakly.

They’re silent for a moment, the streetlamps flickering to life around them. With the coming of winter, the night came earlier along with it. Tim wasn’t afraid of the dark, but he was afraid of what could be waiting in it. His mind flashed to the angler fish statement.

“Let’s, let’s go,” Tim said hesitantly, “We can,” a sigh, “We can work through some of this later. I don’t think Ollie and Cosme would be happy if we brought up workplace discourse during a party.” It wasn’t his best attempt at humor, but he knew that the night was meant to be one where they could relax. Try to feel human again.

Jon gave a sort of half smile, but it was a genuine one at least, “Yes, ah- I don’t usually do parties but when Cosme said it would be just movies, I figured going wouldn’t be too terrible an idea to partake in something fun.”

Tim raised his eyebrows, opening his mouth with a quiet gasp but Jon seemed to know exactly what he was going to say because he turned away to start walking, “Timothy Stoker, don’t you _dare_.”

Tim cleared his throat, “Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, _willfully_ participating in an activity for _fun?”_ He picked up his pace to catch up with him.

“Tim-”

“I don’t know what to expect from you anymore, Jon, next thing I know you’ll be advocating for regular sleep.”

_“Tim-”_

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell Martin- he’d fuss over you more than he does at work.”

He knew he’d made a mistake even before seeing the bewildered look on Jon’s face, so he continued walking ahead while Jon had slowed down in his confusion.

“Why would he fuss over me?”

Oh _God_ , they were both oblivious, Tim thought. They were going to kill him, he was sure of it.

“Tim- Tim, why would Martin fuss over me if we’re not at work? If we don’t have deadlines to meet then why would he waste his time?”

He could tell that part of Jon’s confusion likely came from him not believing that Martin’s behavior would exist outside of a workplace pattern. Normally he would elaborate- he doesn’t like withholding something if it’s an issue of miscommunication or something similar but also he _did_ promise Martin he wouldn’t tell anyone when it became painfully obvious one day.

“Probably because he’s human? Martin would never consider someone a ‘waste of time’,” he answered, “Oh, would you look at that, we’re almost there.” Like an answer from the heavens for his begging that he not have to continue that particular conversation, he could see the building just down the way. The little railing next to the stairs had paper-pumpkin string lights slowly flashing orange- there was no way that wasn’t the right place.

“That’s not a good answer, Tim.”

“I hope that the gado-gado is still warm, but I don’t think they’ll mind if it needs to be reheated.”

_“Tim-!”_


End file.
